


Operation: Trap a Sexy Vulcan

by plaidshirt_jimkirk



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Jim knows what's best for his stubborn Vulcan, M/M, Sleepy!Spock, Space Husbands, old married spirk, protective!jim, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5991589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirt_jimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirt_jimkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock thinks he's going to work more after spending a long day in negotiations. Jim has a different idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation: Trap a Sexy Vulcan

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt: Imagine OMS Spock using Jim's tummy as a pillow.

One does not simply maintain a healthy marriage for decades and not learn the ins and outs of his chosen partner—those little quirks and mannerisms which no other could know without the ties of matrimony interweaving their lives. …Or specifically, it was a _Vulcan bond_ in this case. He would have undoubtedly been corrected for calling it anything else.

Marriage, bond, either-or, _whatever_. Jim found himself not caring about the technicalities; what he officially had with Spock in the eyes of the Vulcan and Terran governments didn’t concern him. He knew that the force which had forever entwined their souls was rooted in the deepest, widest sea of affection, and that that was something too beautiful for spoken description.

Likewise, Jim also knew just as much of Vulcan stubbornness, and _exactly_ what Spock would say when he finally walked through the front door of their condo. Clearly, he would be exhausted from negotiations that went on into the early hours of the morning and yet, it would be the same song and dance.

‘ _Vulcans do not require as much sleep as humans do._ ’

‘ _I am not tired. I am Vulcan_.’

‘ _I will not require rest for another something-something days, XYZ hours, ABC minutes, and blah-blah-blah seconds_.’

It wasn’t even that Spock was being untruthful when he said these things; he wholeheartedly believed them and accepted them as facts.

But Jim knew better, knew _him_ better—knew that, despite Vulcans being capable of going for long periods without sleep and sustenance, _his_ Vulcan had become accustomed to having them as often as Jim himself did.

But what to do, what to _do_ when one’s mate was so adamant and unshakeable in his ways that he couldn’t see past them and recognize what was best for his own health? Fortunately, Jim had enough experience to have the answer to that, too.

He would have to set a trap.

And he was perfectly aware of which one would be most effective this evening. So, he sat up in their bed, reading classic fiction on his PADD and keeping the sheets warm as the chronometer ticked past 01:30.

It wasn’t until right after 02:10 when the chime of the door being unlocked broke the silence and “Operation: Trap a Sexy Vulcan” went into full swing.

Jim’s lips spread into a grin and he quickly switched the screen of his PADD from the story he’d been devouring to the academy messaging app. He slipped out of bed, clad only in black boxers, and slung a robe over his shoulders. His bare feet padded across the hardwood floor and out into the living room to find Spock tapping the security code to bolt the entrance.

“Well hello, Ambassador Spock,” Jim greeted him in a jovial tone as he approached. “So good of you to finally drop by.”

Spock turned with a brow raised and immediately accepted the embrace he was given. “Pardon my delay.” The stiffness his body had assumed all day immediately melted against Jim’s warmth.

Jim smiled into his shoulder and then pulled back, taking the heavy messenger bag slung from Spock’s arm and hauling it over his own. “No need for apologies.” He looked up into those worn dark eyes and confirmed, “You’ve eaten, right?”

“Indeed.” Spock raised a hand to reclaim the bag. “Allow me.”

“Nope!” Jim smirked and turned on his heels. “You had to drag it all the way home. The very least I can do is carry it for you now.”

He began walking through the living space, but made no move to enter Spock’s study to the right. Instead, he strode directly into the bedroom while ignoring the sound of his name. As he was settling the bag down on a chair, Spock appeared in the doorway.

“Jim, I appreciate your effort, but you have brought it to the wrong location.”

“That right?” The robe slipped off of Jim’s shoulders and was tossed atop the same chair, deliberately to cover the bag. He faced Spock then, his black briefs the only article of clothing on his person. Playing along by raising his eyebrows and letting his head slightly tilt to one side, Jim then remarked, “Oh! Sorry. You intended to work more tonight? I thought that perhaps, since you spent _all day_ in negotiations, you’d be interested in getting some sleep.”

“Vulcans do not require as much sleep as humans do,” Spock replied as Jim crossed the room and climbed into bed. “I am certain you were already aware of that fact.”

Jim closed his eyes and his mouth fell open with a knowing nod. “Ah yes, Mister Spock. I understand.” He picked up his PADD. “Well, Vulcans can still do their work in their sleeping robes, can’t they?” He smiled and cocked his head in the direction of the bathroom. “I put them out for you. Go change. It’ll feel good to get out of those formal clothes you’ve been in all day.”

There was a pause as they looked at each other, that smug expression never fading from Jim’s face.

“Very well,” Spock finally agreed and disappeared through the side door.

Jim couldn’t help but huff out an amused laugh. He shook his head and brought a hand to his brow, rubbing it and scanning through the messages. Stubborn Vulcan. The dark shadows beneath Spock’s eyes contradicted everything he had insisted upon, but Jim learned long ago to simply appease his claims. Smile and nod. Agree and humor him. Let him go on believing what he wanted to believe.

The bathroom door slid open and Spock reappeared, now visibly much more comfortable. He folded his formal attire neatly and placed it in the laundry basket.

“You have my gratitude, Jim,” he said as he approached the chair.

“Hey, hang on a second,” Jim called, keeping his eyes carefully on his PADD. “Before you go running off to your study…” He let his gaze linger on the device a little longer before finally lifting it. “I was hoping you could quickly look at something and let me know your thoughts on it. It’s about the new biology professor who transferred from the Vulcan Embassy. I’m looking through his profile.”

Spock’s brows furrowed before one lifted, opting to remain where he stood. Jim held out his hand and swiped it through the air in tiny motions to entice him into joining him.

“Are you speaking of Solkar?” Spock inquired as he approached the bed. Upon arriving at his side, he could feel the warmth radiating from it; not unexpectedly, the heater had been engaged at some point.

“One and the same.” Jim still held his arm out. “Come here and I’ll show you.” He pulled aside the covers to make room for Spock to slide in.

If Vulcans sighed, Spock suspected that moment would be the most optimal time to do so. Instead, he did as Jim wished, climbing in and sitting back against the wall of pillows that had been set up.

“Look,” Jim urged, showing the PADD to Spock while slipping his arm across his back. “It says he’s originally from Shi’Kahr, but moved to Raal when he was younger. I was wondering if you’ve spoken to him at all.”

Spock shook his head, settling back against the heat and comfort of their bed. “I have not.”

Jim raised his brows without taking his eyes from the screen. “Oh, I see. I was thinking that he speaks with an accent because I heard him today and—”

“Jim.”

“What?”

“This has nothing to do with Solkar, does it?”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked, letting go of the PADD and raising his hand slightly in the air. “I just want to know if he talks funny.”

A breath fell from Spock’s lips and he pushed his shoulders back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a moment. His head shook slightly from side to side before his lashes parted.

“If you desired me to join you in bed, you needed only to ask.”

“Would you have?” Jim questioned, a smile easing its way across his face.

Spock’s dark eyes slid over to his bondmate, the corners of his mouth barely twitching up. “Your strategies are often stronger than this one.”

With a laugh, Jim tugged on him. “When did you catch on?”

Spock slid down and gently rolled on his side, resting his cheek against Jim’s soft midsection. His hand raised and touched down again just before his face. “From the moment I first saw you.”

Jim’s fingers carded through the silky black hair and then stroked it, evening it back out. “Do you mean tonight or when I materialized on the Enterprise’s transporter pad?”

Spock nudged his forehead against Jim and he closed his eyes. “That is up for debate. However, I find that I have endured enough arguments within the last day.”

Chuckling, Jim took the PADD with his other hand and balanced it upon one thigh. He flicked back to the story he’d been reading. “Fair enough. Then rest, Mister Spock.”

“I assure you, Jim. I will not require a full night’s rest for two days, twenty hours, forty seven minutes, and—”,

“Okay, okay, I get it! Just be with me then.”

“It had been my intention from the beginning.”

Jim smiled at that, adjusting himself and settling against the fluffy pillows as silence fell over them both. Intentionally remaining quiet, he fell back into the story of a boy named Pip who was looking for love from a girl named Estella. But try as he might have, she would always be two steps out of his reach.

Grateful to have not suffered the same fate, Jim continued to softly caress the head of black hair, listening to the soft breaths that fell from his sleeping bondmate. It hadn’t even taken fifteen minutes.

‘ _Stubborn Vulcan_ ,’ Jim thought to himself, but he certainly wouldn’t hold it against Spock. In fact, he desired him no other way—and no other place, for that matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! <3333 This piece was originally posted on tumblr and in my short story collection, [Written in the Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3558830/chapters/7837652) on my main AO3 account. I'll be reposting each of my short stories individually here so I can tag them accordingly.
> 
> Most smaller stories I write are prompt responses and self-betaed, so my apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> Hang out with me! [tumblr](http://plaidshirtjimkirk.tumblr.com/) | [KSA](http://ksarchive.com/viewuser.php?uid=12451) | [Wordpress](http://plaidshirtjimkirk.wordpress.com/) | [Pinterest](http://www.pinterest.com/cptjameskirk/)
> 
> Got feedback you'd like to share but don't want to leave it here? Drop a line to plaidshirtjimkirk@gmail.com.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. This piece is purely a work of fiction and I am not profiting from it in any way. I do not consent to my work being reposted or reuploaded, in full or in part, to any other website without my permission.


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